


Conference Call

by OracleObscured



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 11:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6004600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OracleObscured/pseuds/OracleObscured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a humorous booty call for my favorite pairing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Conference Call

Snape’s eyes roamed around the conference hall. Why he had agreed to this lecture tour he couldn’t remember (although the pay was nothing to sneer at). Standing in front of a crowd all day talking about potions was giving him flashbacks of his time at Hogwarts (the only difference being less whiny dunderheads and no exploding cauldrons). His advancements with the Wolfsbane potion had caught the attention of the Potioneers Conference, and he had been roped into speaking on three consecutive weekends. He couldn’t tell whether his audience was comprised of potion enthusiasts or werewolves. It made no difference to him either way, but identifying them did provide an entertaining distraction as he droned on.

Bald forty-something in the plaid suit—potion maker. Haggard twenty-something in the third row—werewolf. Silver-haired tycoon in the tailored suit—prosperous potion maker. Silver-haired man in the trench coat—werewolf. Wild-haired witch in the back row . . . Bloody hell, it couldn’t be. He almost didn’t recognize her without her hand waving in the air. What was she doing here? Glancing at the clock on the back wall, Severus saw it was time to wrap up this portion of the lecture. They would return after lunch for a question and answer session.

Lunch was announced by the director, and Snape rolled his eyes as her bushy head approached. Hadn’t he talked enough for one day?

“Excellent lecture, Professor,” Hermione said in greeting.

“I am no longer your professor, Miss Granger. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here for the Creature Rights Conference tomorrow. I just happened to see your name on the sign outside. Is this what you’ve been up to?”

“Among other things,” he said evasively.

She smiled. _Verbose as always Snape._ “Do you mind if I eat with you?”

There was a brief moment where he considered lying; he could claim he was needed elsewhere, but then he felt foolish. Why avoid her? At least she might not bore him to tears like most of the other attendees. “Very well.”

They walked to the hotel’s dining room and were seated in the same quiet back corner booth he’d occupied for the past two weeks. While they waited for their drinks, she made small talk with him about the lecture. He couldn’t stand to hear any more about the other speakers.

“Please stop, Miss Granger. I’ve heard enough from these windbags over the past two weeks to lift a hot-air balloon. If I’m going to be forced into conversation, let it be about anything else.”

Hermione grinned at him and nodded. “All right. What have you been doing since you left Hogwarts? No one’s heard from you in years.”

“I wasn’t aware I had to report in.”

“You don’t. I’m just curious.”

“You always were. I’m surprised you haven’t learned the danger in that yet.”

She just smiled at him.

Severus sighed. “I spend most of my time in my lab at home. And I read a lot. It’s all terribly exciting. I don’t know why the Prophet’s not at my door reporting when I drink my tea and boil my eggs like Potter.”

“You’re not still on about that, are you?” she asked, rolling her eyes. “You know he hates the press.”

“I gathered that from his last little outburst.”

“Skeeter provoked him.”

“Mmm,” he mumbled as the waiter brought their wine.

“Have you been living at Spinner’s End all this time?” she asked when they were alone again.

“Yes. It’s nice and quiet. No shrieking children or noseless madmen to disturb me.” _Or bearded busybodies_ , he added in his head.

Hermione nodded and inhaled the bouquet wafting from her glass.

“And yourself?” Her personal life was of little interest to him, but he wanted to get the subject off himself.

“No shrieking children or noseless madmen in my life either.”

“You and Weasley haven’t burdened the world with offspring yet?”

A short twitch of her brow told him that he’d missed something.

“I guess you don’t follow the gossip columns. I’m no longer with Ron.”

That was mildly interesting. “I suspect you used too many big words for him.”

Hermione glared. “We’re still very good friends.”

“I stand by my observation.”

“What about you?” she shot back. “Not dating anyone?”

He gave her a grim smile. She didn’t talk back this much as a student; maybe he would have enjoyed a vicious Granger over a swotty Granger. “Don’t be absurd.”

Leaning back in the seat, she studied him. Snape sans Hogwarts was a very different animal.

Her appraising eye disconcerted him; he didn’t like being under anyone’s magnifying glass. Thankfully, the staff showed up with their food, and she turned her penetrating brown eyes on her meal; he felt sorry for her chicken florentine.  

They ate half their meal in blessed silence before she spoke again.

“Do you get lonely being by yourself all the time?”

He could only manage a disgusted raise of one brow. Why was she out to destroy his lunch with ridiculous questions?

“I do,” she confessed, not waiting for his answer. “I mean, I’m busy with work, and I like the peace and quiet, but . . .”

“But?” he sighed.

“It’s lonely at night.”

“You get used to it.”

“It’s been five years. How much longer should I give it?”

It was Snape’s turn to scrutinize his guest. What was she trying to say? She was desperate for dialogue? Companionship? He hadn’t had a personal conversation like this in years, and it was making him squeamish. “I don’t know what to tell you, Miss Granger. Perhaps you should procure a pet.”

Hermione smirked at her chicken. “Crookshanks already thinks I’m mental. Another pet and they might gang up and vote to have me committed.”

“Do you not have friends?”

She nodded but it looked unenthusiastic to him.

“Yes. I go out. I have fun. But . . .”

Her inability to finish an idea grated on his nerves. “Go on.”

“I don’t really have time for a boyfriend right now.”

“So?”

“How do you . . . bloody hell.” She set down her fork and gulped the rest of her wine with an agitated sigh.  

Severus refilled her glass. “How do I what?”

“How do you . . . you know . . . deal with the . . . tension?”

She could barely meet his eyes, and it finally dawned on him what she was asking. He almost started laughing. “I have . . . acquaintances.”

“Acquaintances?” she repeated slowly. “Like whom?”

“That’s none of your affair.”

Hermione set down her glass. “Do you mean professionals?”

Her innocent curiosity amused him. “No, I mean acquaintances. I don’t pay them.”

“Are they your friends?”

“Not particularly.”

“You just . . . sleep with them when you feel like it?”

“Yes.”

She went back to eating her chicken with a dazed expression. Severus wondered what had made him reveal the inner workings of his private life. He guessed he felt some sort of camaraderie with her; they both lived in their heads. Solitude could be a tricky mate. She picked at the rest of her food until it was a desiccated mess on her plate.

“Professor?”

“Please, I insist anyone who discusses their sex life with me call me Severus.”

Her lips quirked up. “Severus. How do you . . . initiate your requests with your ‘acquaintances’?”

He shrugged. “I usually just owl them saying I’d like to meet.”

“Do you spend the entire night with them or do you just . . .”

“Fuck and run?” he supplied. If she wasn’t going to finish a sentence, he was going to fill in the blanks as he pleased.

She blushed but reluctantly grinned. “Yes.”

“It depends.”

Hermione nodded slowly and went back to her distracted picking. Acquaintanceship had never been such a knicker-wetting concept.

“Are you coming to the inquiry session after lunch?” he asked when he’d watched her abstracted massacre go on long enough.

“What? Oh, yes. I was planning on it.”

“Then perhaps we should return. It’s almost time to start.”

“How long does this usually last?” she asked as they made their way back to the conference room.

“Less than half an hour.”

“Oh. That’s not long.”

She caught his arm when they started to part at the door. “Thank you for the lunch, Severus. It was nice.”

“You barely ate.”

“I meant it was nice talking to you.”

He snorted.

“I mean it. Could we do it again sometime?”

He eyed her warily. “Possibly.”

“I’m free tonight.”

“Hmm, I’ll think about it.” He didn’t know if he could stand any more talking in one day.

Hermione nodded and took a seat in the front row.

The question and answer portion of his day began, and he took the first inquiry from the “prosperous potion maker” he’d noted earlier. As he rattled off an explanation of moon phases in relation to monkshood, he noticed a flash of red peeking from beneath Granger’s skirt. She was wearing a navy blue dress, so the red was as conspicuous as Hagrid in a room full of house-elves. He couldn’t take his eyes off the dash of color showing between her thighs. Red knickers seemed like a frivolous choice for such a studious witch.

He finally tore his eyes away and accepted another question. It took all his willpower to keep from drifting back to her scarlet gusset. One question was his limit; he had to check again. As soon as the next question was asked, he glanced in her direction. A small smile sneaked onto his lips when he saw the blazing banner still visible. She shifted, and her knees spread wider, giving him a view other wizards would have killed for. His voice caught in his throat, and he had to cough to clear a passage for his words. No one seemed any wiser to what he was really looking at, and he went on answering questions for the crowd of attendees.

He was ready for this session to be over; discovering the motive behind her impromptu flashing weighed on his mind. It appeared that she was interested in something other than talking. Whenever he met her eye, a small smile flickered over her lips. It was like having a salacious Mona Lisa in the front row.

Every time a new question was asked, he clenched his jaw in an effort to quell his annoyance. How many damn questions could they have? He felt as though he’d been up there for an hour. A surreptitious check of the clock indicated only twenty minutes had passed.  

Five questions later he was ready to tear out his hair. What were these people, the bloody Potions Inquisition? Didn’t they have other places to be? Another ten minutes and the well finally ran dry. No one indicated any further issues, and he was released from speaking engagement hell. The demure way she crossed her ankles as he approached made him mental; he wanted to spread her knees wide and get a decent look at what he’d been sampling.  

Snape looked down his nose at her smirking visage. “I’ve thought it over. We definitely need to talk.”

Hermione grinned up at him. “I thought about it too, and I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“You don’t?” If she was just teasing him this whole time, he was going to hex her.

“I was wondering if you’d like to get more . . . acquainted?”

He mirrored her sly smile and leaned closer. “Your room or mine?”

“Will you stay the night?”

“If you like.” He deduced that she must be painfully lonely for such a request.

“Then . . . my room.”

He nodded. “Just give me time to take a shower and get changed.”

She shook her head.

“No? Miss Granger, I’ve been up since dawn. A shower is definitely in order.”

She rose suddenly, leaving them standing far too close to appear casual. “My tub’s big enough for two.”

He’d never bathed with anyone before. It sounded promising. “Lead the way.”

Smiling, she gripped his elbow and dragged him toward the lift. An elderly couple was just disembarking, so they managed to get one all to themselves. When the doors closed, he rounded on her, backing her into the wall. Her eyes went wide as she looked up at him. Merlin's beard! Her stomach jolted two inches north. No one had looked at her like that in quite some time.

His finger trailed down her neck, gliding past her collarbone to her chest. “Now’s your chance to give me a good look at those knickers.”

Hermione smiled. “We’re only going to the seventh floor. Wait till we get to the room.”

Severus took a page from her book and shook his head in disagreement. He gathered up her skirt until it was bunched in his fists at her hips. Leaning back and dipping his head to one side, he regarded her blood-red panties as she panted up at him. A loud ding announced their arrival at her floor, and she pushed down his hands with a blush as the doors opened. Slipping her fingers into his, she pulled him down the hall and used her key to let them in.

At first glance, her room was a lot nicer than his. He knew that incompetent concierge had it in for him. Stowing away that complaint for later, he smirked as she led him to the bathroom. The tub was indeed big enough for two.

“How hot do you like the water?” she asked, grinning at him over her shoulder.

“Scalding.”

Laughing, she let go of him and turned on the taps. He studied the curve of her arse as she bent down to plug the drain.  

“I don’t want to singe anything we might need later,” she quipped.

“That sounds logical,” he muttered and squeezed her bum.

A surprised yelp leapt from her lips, and she spun around in his arms. “Professor!”

“Yes?” he replied calmly, hands alighting on her hips. “Is this not why we’re here?”

“Yes, of course,” she conceded. “I just wasn’t ready for it.”

“Are you ready now?”

She swallowed loudly, her pulse pumping in her throat. “Yes.”

With one finger, he drew the neckline of her dress aside. The fiery line of a red strap appeared, and Snape smiled. “Still showing your house pride?”

“I just thought it was pretty.”

Lifting her dress, he pulled it over her head. Her matching bra and knickers were like a flame lighting the room; they were all he could see. Her shoes got kicked to the side, leaving her noticeably shorter than when they started. Encircling her waist, he pulled her tightly against his body. She writhed in his arms, and he smirked down at her. “Anxious to start, Miss Granger?”

“Your clothes are scratchy; take them off,” she panted and began to unfasten his coat.

He lent her a hand, working from the bottom as she started at the top. They met in the middle, and he shrugged out of the heavy wool. Her hands went for his shirt buttons as his went for his belt.

“No!” she exclaimed and stopped him before he could undo it. “That’s mine.”

“It was mine when I put it on this morning.”

“I mean, I want to take it off,” she explained and abandoned his shirt to do so.

Her small hands were delightfully close to his cock, and his length twitched as she pulled the leather free. Her curious fingers traced his rising flesh through the thick wool of his trousers.  

“Oh gods,” she whispered to herself. “I’ve dreamt about this.”

His pale hand gripped her chin and forced her eyes from his bulging placket. “What was that?”

“I said I’ve dreamt about this.”

“Bathing with me?”

“Taking off your clothes.”

He let out a single breathy chuckle. “Since when?”

“Right after the war.”

“I see.” He didn’t know what that meant. Had this all been an elaborate ruse to get him into bed? Not that he minded that, it just made him wonder how much of this was planned in advance. While he pondered her possible craftiness, he untucked his shirt for her.

Hermione smiled when he began undressing himself once more. This was like Christmas morning; unwrapping him was, by far, the most exciting thing she’d done in years. His buttons pulled open one by one, giving her a narrow view of his pale torso beneath the crisp cotton. Once his shirt was lying in a heap on the bathroom floor, she immediately went back to his fly. Reality was much more vivid than anything she’d ever imagined. His angular body was all shadows and light in the dim glow of the bathroom.

His hand went to the waist of his trousers. “Are these yours too, or shall I?”

“Don’t you dare!” she said, smacking his hand. “I was saving the best for last.”

The side of his mouth curled into a half-smile as she lowered his zip. His growing cock finally found the freedom it craved, and he let out a sigh of relief. She eased the waistband of his shorts away from his body and pulled it over the jut of his sex. It had been a long time since a witch had undressed him (and never with such obvious delight). His clothes dropped to the floor. Now that he was wool-free, he drew her once more against his body. The warmth of her bare skin was like a drug.

“Better now?” he purred.

“Gods, yes,” she moaned into his chest.  

Her lower abdomen pressed and rubbed against his straining heat. There was a momentary desire to keep going until he spilled himself all over her soft belly. _Get ahold of yourself, man. You’re not sixteen anymore_. Sliding his hands across her back, he found her bra catch and unfastened it with practiced ease; it fell to the floor with the rest of their clothes.

His fingers slipped into the back of her knickers. “Does this mean these are mine?”

“They’re not really your color.”

He snorted and pulled the thin fabric up between her cheeks, causing the gusset to split her pussy and ride against her clit. A cross between a cry of surprise and a moan fell from her lips, and she buried her face in his chest. He pulled a little harder, until she rose up on her toes, then he peeled them down her hips and pushed them to the floor.

“Hold on,” he said, keeping her in place. “I want to see how dirty you are before I get you clean.”  

His hand trailed down to her thicket of curls, and one long finger traced the line of her sex. He growled at the feel of her slick lips parting for him, inviting him into their hidden depths. “It seems you enjoyed that lecture far more than I did, Miss Granger.”

Warm breath puffed over his nipple as she laughed.

“Hermione,” she corrected.

“Very well. Ready for that bath, Hermione?”

Her fingertips trickled over his cock. “Yes.”

They climbed in, and he settled to one side, getting an outstanding view of her bum as she debated whether to sit across from him or on him.

“You were planning on actually getting _in_ the water, weren’t you?” he drawled.

A chagrined smile crossed her lips. “I didn’t know if I should just . . . invade your space,” she explained, motioning at him with her hands.

“I foolishly assumed that was the goal,” he replied, admiring the way her breasts jiggled as she gesticulated. “Sit.”

He held out his hand to her.

Hermione let him assist her, and she sank down, resting her back against his chest. Butterflies were waging war in the hollow of her belly; she hoped the bathwater would drown them. He was sharp and angular against her back; the black hairs on his chest and abdomen tickled her spine. One pale hand snaked its way under her arm and reemerged at her breast. She watched, spellbound, as it traced invisible patterns around her areola. He was purposefully avoiding her nipple, edging close to it before skating away again. Her teeth clenched together like a steel trap in an attempt to withstand his lazy teasing.

After five years of solo pleasure punctuated by occasional dates (who all seemed to posses the finesse of a mountain troll), her body felt like a frayed wire. How did a man, who probably spent all his free time brooding in his basement with a cauldron, ignite this kind of need in her so easily? Was it because she’d fantasized about him before? Or was it that damn attitude of his? Sarcasm wasn’t exactly a turn-on for her . . . but it wasn’t turning her off either. She was surprised he hadn’t lost his patience with her yet. Maybe retirement had softened him.

Severus smirked into her hair. He hadn’t thought she would be so responsive; she always seemed so uptight. When he “accidentally” brushed over her pink tip, she almost arched off his body. His other hand covered her soft belly, and he stroked her, trying to calm her heavy breathing.

“Relax,” he whispered in her ear.

Hermione’s eyes rolled back in her head as her clit jolted with a short twinge. “I can’t with you whispering at me like that.”

“Like this?” he asked, touching his lips to the edge of her ear.

She shivered. “Yes.”

His fingers brushed over her straining nipple again, and she made a strangled noise in her throat.

“Tell me more about how you imagined taking off my clothes,” he rumbled, kissing her neck as she rolled her hips into his swollen cock.

“I don’t know. It was only a couple of times,” she answered nonchalantly.

He didn’t believe that. “Where did you imagine it happening?”

 _Your classroom. Your office. My dorm room. The library. The Quidditch pitch. Grimmauld Place. My office. My flat._ “I don’t remember.”

“Hermione Granger not remember something?” he taunted. “That seems unlikely.”

He pinched her nipple, and Hermione’s clit throbbed in time.

“Perhaps I need to jog your memory,” he purred, tweaking her other nipple.

“The prefect’s bathroom,” she admitted.

“The prefect’s bathroom?” He chuckled. “Continue. I want to hear it all.”

She groaned as he teased her tightened tips, pinching them into peaks and then brushing a fingertip over the swell. The thought of revealing something so personal made the butterflies in her stomach surge up her esophagus in a swarm of retaliation. Hopefully he would just think it was a schoolgirl fantasy, something she hadn’t thought about in years.  

“I used to imagine you walking in on me while I was taking a bath.”

“How apropos,” he drawled, flicking some water up onto her chest.

Hermione smiled and rubbed her bum along his length. Two could play this game. “In my fantasy you had this same reaction.”

“Did I? Go on.”

“You’d catch me touching myself then ask if I needed assistance. I always said yes.”

His free hand trailed down to the triangle of curls hiding her sex. “Was this how you imagined it?” he murmured, tracing the line of her nether lips.

“No.”

“No?”

“This is better,” she explained as she lifted her hips to force his hand.

He pulled away, drawing his palm up to her bellybutton. “Patience,” he admonished. “Always the downfall of the Gryffindors.”

“I’ve been patient for five bloody years,” Hermione groaned.

“Then five more minutes shouldn’t make much of a difference.”

An angry growl made it clear that she had serious doubts about that. His hand lazily made its way back down to her sex, and Hermione let some of the tension melt from her body.

“What happened after your climactic cleansing?” he asked as he teased her.

“I returned the favor,” she answered with a blush. Having something she'd fantasized about actually happen was so bizarre. (Although not as bizarre as telling that person about it.)

“In what manner?” he muttered to her neck.

A shiver rolled down her spine. “In an oral manner."

“Is that what you had in mind for tonight?” His fingertip found the swollen tip of her clitoris.

“Among other things,” she confirmed, using his own vague words against him.

He circled her nub like a shark, biding his time, making small preliminary attacks to test her response. “How many times did you come imagining that particular scenario?”

“In a night or in my entire life?” She didn’t want to admit the latter.

Snape chuckled into her hair. “A night, but now I’m curious about the grand total as well.”

The ball of tension wound bigger and tighter, begging to be unfurled by his nimble fingers. She had difficulty thinking the closer she got to unraveling. “At least three . . . usually more.”

“And total?”

She had no idea. One hundred? Five hundred? Who could remember something like that? “I lost count.”

She felt the warm breath of his laughter on her neck. Apparently she had been complimentary enough.  

“If you’re going to rub against me like that, you should get the soap and save us some scrubbing.”

She couldn’t stop the agitated grind of her hips. He was right; she could have cleaned his cock thoroughly by now. “I’d like to do it by hand.”

“Your clit seems adequately clean,” he said with a smirk. “Shall I stop?”

If he stopped, she was going to stuff him down the drain. “I’m so close.”

She’d already admitted to being multi-orgasmic; he was curious to see to what degree. “If I had known cleanliness got you so excited, I would have had you scrubbing cauldrons every day in detention.”

His teasing made her face burn, but she didn't want him to stop. The rumbling in her ear was the icing on the cake. “Oh God.”

“Cleanliness _is_ next to godliness."

Her legs started to shake and her pussy began to bloom like a flower, the pleasure unfolding out of her like petals falling open to the sun. “Fuck!” She clutched his legs to keep from sliding off his body.

The hand on her breast went to her ribs, and he held her in place. This was going to be a fun night. If she kept coming like that, he was in for a hell of a ride.  

Her quivering legs finally stilled, and she collapsed against him. He kept his finger touching her clit but didn’t move it. For some reason it made her feel calmer to have it there. “Thank you, Severus.”

“Don’t thank me yet. The night’s not over.”

“No one’s ever made me come before.”

“What!” Was she serious? “You’ve never had an orgasm with another man?”

“Of course I have. I touch myself till I get there. But it’s always me who does it.”

He stared at the side of her flushed face. He couldn’t imagine having to bring himself off with his own hand every time he had sex. “How disappointing. What kind of wizards have you been sleeping with?”

She smiled. “The wrong ones apparently.”

“Imbeciles,” he muttered, nipping her neck.

She giggled and rolled over on him. His hands went to her bum and held her against his erection. She ground her hips into him. “Feels like you enjoyed the pre-rinse. Ready for the wash cycle?”

He snorted softly. “Keep it on the gentle cycle; I don’t want to lose my load in the tub.”

Hermione smiled. “Severus Snape, you own a washing machine.”

“I did grow up in a half-Muggle house,” he reminded her. “Rigging one up with magic wasn’t really difficult.”

“A domestic man,” she said, sitting up to find the soap. “How sexy.”

He shook his head. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw the meals I eat.”

She lathered his chest. “How can you be bad at cooking? It’s just like potion-making.”

His cock danced as she pulled on his nipples. “Cooking bores me. All that work for so little pay off.”

Brushing some water over his chest, she rinsed him. “That’s true for a lot of things. Potions . . . sex.”

“Potion-making is a challenge. Sex is . . . engrossing. Cooking is just busy work.”

Hermione rubbed the soap down to his pubic hair, scooting back so she could see him. “Mmmm . . .” She forgot what she was thinking.

“That bodes well for me,” he quipped.

She ran her hand lightly from his balls all the way up to the tip of his cock; it twitched hard underwater, following her hand as she pulled away. “Mmmm,” she groaned again. All she wanted to do was get him inside her as soon as possible.

Snape watched her wash his dick, gritting his teeth every time she pumped him. “That’s enough, girl. Let’s get out of here before we start pruning.”

A wicked smile curled her lips as she shook her head. “I am _not_ done yet. What happened to your patience?”

“You wrung it all out of me,” he retorted.

Hermione laughed and cupped his balls. “I’m almost done. A girl’s got to take care of the family jewels.”

Her hand worked its way behind his sac; his stomach flipped and clenched. As long as she stayed off his dick, he could bear her soft stroking. When her soapy finger slipped back further and glanced over his arse, a low growl came from his throat. “Careful, Miss Granger, you’re next.”

“Hermione,” she corrected him. She didn’t want to push her luck, so she abandoned the ticklish subject.  

He took the soap from her and tossed it back in the dish. One hand went between her legs while the other stroked her thigh. He never broke eye contact, enjoying the way her eyelids fluttered and the harsh sound of her panting.

“Don’t you want the soap?” she asked as he slipped a finger inside her.

“No. I want you to taste like pussy not soap.”

“Bloody hell, Severus. You’re right; let's get out of here and get in bed.”

Now that her hands weren’t all over his wand, he found a reserve of patience. “This was your idea. I want to make sure you’re as clean as I am.”

“Good luck.”

“Are you doubtful of my abilities?”

“No, I just can’t stop creaming myself.”

Snape snickered and slid his hand around to grab her bum. “I’ll focus on your other landmarks then. Sit back.”

Hermione watched him soap her chest, slipping over her nipples with his thumbs. He tried repeatedly to pinch them, but his fingers were too sudsy. The bathwater rinsed the bubbles away, and he leaned in and licked one nipple then declared it sparkling clean.

“Stand up.”

Hermione stood, her muff right in his face. He looked amused but put his hands on her hips and turned her around.

“Let’s see how you like it.”

Hermione jumped when his fingers prodded between her cheeks. His soap-slick digits rubbed against her puckered opening, and her legs almost gave out.

Severus grinned at her bum and wondered how far she’d explored that route on her own. “If you want me to keep cleaning, you’re going to have to give me a hand.”

“A hand?”

“Or better yet, both hands.” He held one cheek to the side. “I can’t see what I’m doing.”

Hermione thought about it for three whole seconds then reached back and held herself open for him. “Be nice,” she said nervously.

 _Oh, I’ll be nice._ He tickled her tiny opening and pressed gently. “Have you done this before?”

“Maybe.”

Severus grinned. _Maybe._ The tip of his finger eased inside. “What have you had in here?”

She blushed profusely, glad he couldn’t see her face. “Um . . . my finger.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.” _Or two . . . and a half._

He kept up a steady pressure until her muscles let him in deeper.

Hermione smiled. “I didn’t know you were so thorough.”

“I go where I’m needed.”

Her snort was cut off by a moan when he wiggled his finger inside her. “Bloody hell. Okay, I’m really ready to move this to the bed now.”

“I think I'd better rinse you out first. Get back down here.”

Hermione knelt down, leaning on the edge of the tub, and looked at him over her shoulder as he fingered the soap out of her. “Will you do this for me again later?”

Snape smirked at her. “Maybe.”

Hermione turned away with a small smile.

“All right, you’re squeaky clean, young lady,” he said, patting her bum.  

She climbed out of the tub, and Snape followed right behind her, taking the towel she offered. They didn’t quite make it to the bed. Hermione couldn’t stop staring at his bouncing dick, and she stumbled into one of the chairs while trying to look back at him.

Snape caught her arm before she fell. “Look where you’re going,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Hermione blushed at her clumsiness and got her feet back under her. _Very sexy, Hermione. Way to go_. “You’re the one with the divining rod—you lead the way.”

He shook his head. “We both know where I’ll be drilling. Now go get on the goddamn bed.” He smacked her bum once to get her moving.

Hermione yelped and spun around to face him, her hands covering her backside. “That hurt!” Actually, it just startled her.

“No, it didn’t. I barely . . .” It took him a couple seconds, but then he saw how dark her eyes had gotten. “You naughty little liar. You loved it.”

Hermione blushed and stared at his cock. It was probably safer if he didn’t know about all her detention fantasies.

He took her by the arm and led her to the bed. The mattress was just below hip high for him, and he picked her up and set her on the edge. “Tell me what you want to do tonight.”

Her face flushed, but she couldn’t stop grinning. Putting one hand around his erection, she bit her lip in thought. “I want you to shag me.”

“And?”

She smiled up at him. “And lick me.”

“And?”

“Then I get to lick you.”

Severus smirked. “Do you want me to spank you?”

Her lips pressed together. It was her favorite fantasy, but she wanted him inside her. His cock was beautiful. “I want this first.”

“That’s too damn bad. I want to turn your arse red first.”

Hermione was nervous. Even though she'd fantasized about it, no one had ever spanked her before. But the way he looked at her when he said that made her pussy eager for whatever he had in store.

“You'd better turn over and get that bum in the air.” Severus saw a hint of disappointment in her eyes. He turned her face back up to his. “What is it?”

“Have you ever done this before?”

He smirked. “Once or twice.” _Or more._

“I . . . uh . . .”

He could see she wasn’t so experienced. She wanted it, but she was scared. Further digging indicated the source of her disappointment. “Do you need to be over my knee?”

Her lips twitched into a smile. “Yes, sir.”

“How often have you thought about this, Miss Granger?” he asked, taking her to the chair she’d tripped over.

She was shaking as she eased herself over his lap. _A billion._ “A few. You’re not really going to hurt me, are you?”

Severus observed how round her bum looked over his lap. _Mmmm_. Smoothing his hand over it a couple times, he slipped his hand between her legs, testing her excitement level. “Just enough to make you come again.”

Hermione grinned at the carpet. Her heart was beating so hard she felt sick, but she’d never wanted anything more. The first slap made her jump, but it didn’t exactly hurt. The next one stung a bit more (still nowhere near her breaking point). Over the next few minutes, he spanked her to a peak of sensation. If it got any harder or faster, she would cry. But instead of more slaps, he left her bum smoldering while he slid his fingers through her folds.

Snape smirked. “I’d ask how much you fancied your spanking, but I believe I have the answer all over my hand."

Usually she had to rub her clit for half an hour to get that kind of lubrication. He began to alternate smacks to her arse with light caresses to her sex. Her head was spinning. Every few stinging slaps were punctuated by an ellipsis of fingertips over her clit. He kept insisting that this was just was naughty Gryffindors got, and if she didn’t reform her delinquent ways, this is where she’d keep finding herself. That sounded more like an incentive to her.

Severus couldn’t keep the smile from his face. She was soaked. Even her thighs were slick. He knew she was ready to blow. Her panting and groaning couldn’t sound any more desperate. Bringing her right to the edge with his finger, he moved his spanking to her pussy, giving her puffy lips some light slaps.

“Ah!” Hermione had lost the ability to form words. Sounds were all that were called for in such situations anyway. She rode through the release pulsing from her core, spurred on by the clap of fingers to her sex. "Ahhhhhh!"

As she slumped in relief, descending from her high, Severus rubbed her pink lips and let her relax. He was ready to fuck the hell out of her, but he’d let her catch her breath first. She’d need it.

Hermione found her voice. “I . . . I think you’ve done that more than a few times.”

Severus smirked. “Possibly. Are you still in need of my cock? I believe you’re sufficiently wet for my purposes now.”

Hermione breathed out a laugh. “I’m in dire need of your cock, sir. I hope you’re feeling magnanimous.”

He snorted. “Indeed, I am. Get on the bed and I’ll show you just how much.”

Hermione climbed off his lap and pulled him by the hand toward the bed. “You’re a pillar of virtue,” she quipped as she climbed up on the bed and positioned herself on her hands and knees. “Any contribution is greatly appreciated.”

Her bum was delightfully red, and Severus couldn’t take his eyes off it as he knelt behind her. Placing his leaking head to her shining sex, he teased her, barely pushing in (consequently driving himself mad as well, but wanting to hear her growl again). “Don't worry, I’m a generous tipper.”

In light of her current situation, she couldn’t contest that. “Oh God, Severus! Please. Stop teasing!”

“No more witty repartee for me, Miss Granger? Something about my coin purse perhaps?” he asked, sinking into her slowly and steadily.

Hermione’s eyes went wide. The stretch was more than she was expecting or had ever experienced before. He rested inside her, unable to go any deeper, butting up against her cervix and making her belly tense. “Unnnh!”

Severus watched her claw at the bed as she adjusted to his invasion. “Is this what you had in mind?” he asked, rolling his hips into her.

Closing her slackened mouth, Hermione groaned out one last taunting plea, “Give till it hurts, sir.”

Snickering, Snape started to thrust. He was content to take his time. “Soon. I don’t think you can handle more just yet. Your cunt runnith over.”

She couldn’t have put it better herself. Dropping down onto her face, she let him pilot her hips. She’d never been so wet in all her life. It sounded as if he were juicing her pussy, pressing the liquid out of her with every grind. It was going to be running down her leg soon.

Severus restrained his desire to savage her with his cock. She seemed barely able to withstand the simple, slow thrust he was currently cruising at. Every plunge elicited a needy whine from her. And it sounded as if she were trying to drown his cock. He was going to need a lifeguard to rescue him from the deep end when she came. Fucking her faster, he listened to the waters roar.

“Please, sir,” she begged after ten minutes of his torture. “I need more.”

Slicking his finger in saliva, Snape gave her more.

Hermione’s eyes went wide. He was prodding at her anus, tickling her with one wet finger. “Oh God.”

Smirking, Severus eased into her bum. He suspected she’d had more than a finger in there by how quickly she let him in. “More?"

She was so close. If he just sped up a little, she could come. “Faster, sir. Please!”

“Call me Severus,” he countered.

“Severus! Please!”

Wiggling his finger deeper, he gave her the burst of speed she needed to push her over.

“Ahhhhh-h-h-h-h!” Her orgasm rose to a steep peak and then she was plummeting over the cliff, her pussy straining around him, fighting his continued thrusting, bearing down so hard she was sure her internal organs were about to become external.

Snape locked his teeth against the pleasure. Once she calmed down, he was going to turn her over and fuck her senseless.

When she went still, he pulled his finger from her bum and reached over for his wand. A quick cleansing charm later, and he was ready to start the next round. “I think you'd better lie down before you fall down, Miss Granger.” His dick seemed to be the only thing keeping her aloft. “Get on your back for me.”

“Hermione,” she corrected, dragging her pussy from his shaft and rolling onto her back.

“Hermione,” he repeated to himself. “I want to watch your face this time. You’ll have to stop pretending I’m someone else now.”

She smiled and wrapped her knees around his hips as he sank back inside her. He remained braced on his hands, hovering over her. She couldn't stop staring. “I’m not pretending you’re someone else.”

“No?”

“I don't have to this time.” She wouldn’t reveal that she had thought of him while with other wizards. She didn’t need to hand him the bullet for her own execution.

He studied her face as he slowly slid in and out. She felt bloody amazing around him, and he was looking forward to watching her expression the next time she lost it. “This time? You’ve mentally exchanged wizards in bed before?”

“Once or twice,” she said, throwing his own words back at him.

Her hands were on his chest, stroking him and making his brain melt. “And who gets you going in such a situation? Past lovers? Workplace heartthrobs? No, wait, let me guess. Literary characters.”

Hermione blushed and dropped her eyes to her hands; she found his nipples and gave him a taste of his own elixir. “No one you know. Just whoever strikes my fancy at the time.”

He grinned at her deepening blush. “It _is_ someone I know. You’re turning Gryffindor scarlet as we speak. Look at me.” He’d find the answer for himself.

Reluctantly meeting his eyes, she did her best to block out any past fantasies involving him.

He knew she was trying to shield her thoughts, but like most people unskilled in Occlumency, she was simply highlighting exactly what he was looking for. He stopped thrusting, speechless by what he found in her head. “No one I know, hm?”

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. “They were just fantasies,” she explained.

Severus didn’t know how to react to such a discovery. “Not anymore.”

Her eyes opened. “I never thought anything like this would happen.”

“You just hoped it would?”

“I honestly thought I’d never see you again. I figured you’d left the country or something.”

“And now that you’ve found me right in your own backyard?”

Hermione pondered that. “I was hoping we’d stay in touch.”

“In touch,” he repeated, considering the implications.

“I could do with a good _acquainting_ every week or so,” she suggested.

That sounded pleasant. “I might be able to work you into my schedule.”

“Your altruism knows no bounds,” she intoned with an eye roll.

He started thrusting again, just to prove her right. “I didn’t hear you complaining a minute ago. Did you not find me generous when I was pounding your pussy?”

She smiled softly, relieved that he wasn’t roasting her over the coals of her own fancies. “I had no complaints.”

He was enjoying their time together and saw no reason to push her away. (For now.) If she wanted him to shag her on a regular basis, he was open to the idea. “I believe you were singing my praises. Or at least your pussy was.” 

“You should hear what my bum has to say about you.”

Severus bit back a laugh. “All complimentary I hope.”

“First rate,” she affirmed.

“Are you ready to scream for me again? I want to make sure you give me a glowing review.”

“It’ll glisten,” she promised.

Severus grinned.

For the next half hour, he alternated between slow and gentle, and hard and fast. She was no longer coherent enough for begging. His name was the only recognizable word she spoke. He knew she was close again, and he was only drawing out his own torture by prolonging things any further. Turning up the heat, Snape gave her what she needed, what they both needed, fucking her hard and fast until she let out a hoarse scream and arched her back, almost bucking him off the bed.

Releasing himself inside her, Severus groaned her name softly as he mentally recorded her expression. The mindless ecstasy rolling though her eyes would be a helpful memory in the lonely days to come.

Kissing his sweaty neck, she held him tightly and didn’t let him pull away. They could have dinner sent up to the room. She wasn't letting him leave that bed until she had to go to her conference tomorrow. “That was brilliant.”

He had to concur. “Leave all feedback in the suggestion box.”

Hermione grinned and stroked his back. “Tell me when you’re ready to go again and I’ll su—“

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Severus looked over his shoulder at the door. “Expecting someone?”

Her head shook no. “I cancelled the stripper when I found out you were in the same hotel.”

Smirking, he gently pulled out of her. “I’ll get rid of them.”

He slipped on a hotel robe and went to the door as she hid under the sheets.

The concierge from hell didn’t try to hide his surprise at finding Snape there. “Miss Granger?” he asked sarcastically.

Snape raised one eyebrow but kept his face otherwise sneering.

“We’ve had several complaints about this room,” the man said with a nasty look of derision, as if Snape couldn’t be the cause.

“Well, you’ll have none from us. We’re quite satisfied.”

“There were reports of screams. Is Miss Granger all right?”

“She was outstanding, not that it's any of your business. But she gets lonely when I leave her for too long. I should be getting back to bed. Good evening.”

He stuck the “do not disturb” sign on the handle and slammed the door in the concierge’s face.

“Who was that?” Hermione asked when he got back.

“Room service.”

She smiled. “What’d they want?”

Snape pulled off the robe and got back in bed, turning down the sheets so he could see her. “To congratulate you on breaking the sound barrier.”

Hermione covered her mouth with one hand, embarrassment coloring her face, but then she started laughing. “Are we in trouble?”

“MmHm,” he mumbled as he nipped her neck. “You'd better get back over my knee for your punishment. He said you won’t get the prize money unless every guest on this floor makes a formal complaint.”

Hermione blushed but nodded. “I don’t ever plan to come back here again. How 'bout you?”

He shook his head. “Not a chance.”

“Then let’s go for the gold. I want our names in the hall of fame.”

Chuckling, Severus pulled her on top of him. "Be sure to use my full name. I don't want the Potioneers requesting my services again any time soon."

She pouted. "No more lectures?"

"It's cutting into my new job."

"What new job?"

“Clitoral consort.”

She grinned. "I hear that's where the money is. Are you taking new clients?"

"I might have an opening," he muttered into her neck.

"If you're looking for a new position, I might have something befitting a man of your talents."

He looked up at her, waiting for the punchline. "And that is?"

"Anal liaison."

 _Bloody hell._ Getting “acquainted” with Granger was going to be a full time job.

And he intended to collect some overtime later.


End file.
